So the husband goes to this fine dine, super expensive, super exclusive, high nosed, upscale, (you get the drift, right) Italian Restaurant. And after a meticulous look at the menu and a chat with the head chef, orders Cheese and Spinach Ravioli in Pesto sauce as entrée.
After much wait the dish finally arrives. All decked up, served in the most exquisite fashion. One bite, and he asks the chef to get him some black pepper. Another bite and some tobasco sauce is ordered. Yet another and some red chili flakes. And then some vinegar and then some dry herbs.
Yeah, a small kitchen was established right on the table. The chef died of embarrassment, I have a feeling he quit his profession too, and as for me, I died laughing, and that precisely is the reason we don’t have any pictures!